


How Max Saved Christmas

by Nicnac



Series: Grinch Omens [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Cats, Fluff, Gen, Grinch Omens, How the Grinch Stole Christmas AU, M/M, and Max has them both, these idiots have two brain cells between the three of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: Max the Cat loves his mom very much. It's just a shame Crowley can be such an idiot.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Grinch Omens [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567081
Comments: 29
Kudos: 97





	How Max Saved Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerofspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/gifts).



> It was summerofspock's birthday today (or yesterday, depending on your time zone)! I asked her what she wanted and she said "oblivious flirting." So I of course wrote a story about a cat and the idiot who owns him. But there is flirting in there! A little bit.

When Max had been a very tiny kitten – before he had even been Max – he had gotten lost. He had wandered out on his own into the snow and had been very cold and wet and very, very small. Max had mewed and mewed for his mama, but she never came. Instead Crowley had found him. He’d smelled like a snake, and Max had been very frightened but too tired to fight or run. But rather than swallowing him down whole, Crowley had scooped Max up and tucked him inside his coat. Then he’d taken Max back to a safe cave and given Max food and water and a warm place to sleep and a name. The next morning when with his belly full and Crowley stroking his fur very nicely, Max had decided to stay.

Now that he was big and grown, Max was glad he had stayed. Crowley was an excellent mom. He made sure there was always food and water out in case Max couldn’t find enough when he went hunting. He had lots of toys to play with for when Max got bored. He kept their cave-den clean and safe from predators. He was very good at grooming Max’s fur out. And he was all bony and lanky angles, which made him excellent for lying down on and the perfect complement to Max, who was soft and fluffy. Yes, Max loved his mom very much. It was just a shame he could be such an idiot.

He did a lot of little idiotic things now and again, of course. Max didn’t hold that against him; not everyone could be as smart as Max was. But the biggest idiotic thing Crowley did was how he practically never left their cave-den. He walked around just outside, but that hardly counted. Sometimes he went out on long trips, but even when he did, he almost never interacted with other Whos and he never, never went to the village just near their cave-den.

Max couldn’t understand it. Crowley needed a pack. A Who-pack. Max was a very good cat, but he couldn’t be Crowley’s pack all by himself. And the village would make a good pack for him. Even though Crowley wouldn’t go, Max had visited it a lot of times, and made sure of it. The people were all friendly, and there were a lot of the small ones with the kitten energy. Crowley didn’t interact with other Whos much, but he’d done it enough for Max to know he liked the small ones.

Max had even found the perfect den-mate for Crowley. His name was Aziraphale, though before Max had learned that he’d called him the cream man; both because he was usually about the colour of cream and because one time he’d spotted Max watching him and offered him some of the cream he had been eating. The cream wasn’t why Aziraphale was perfect for Crowley, though it had been very tasty cream. He was perfect for Crowley because he was very good at being friendly with his pack mates, which Crowley needed to learn, but he also enjoyed spending time quietly alone inside his house-den, which Crowley liked to do too. Plus Aziraphale was very soft and by Who standards he was reasonably fluffy. It was important that Crowley’s den-mate be soft and fluffy.

And yet, despite all the time Max put into finding Crowley the perfect pack and perfect den-mate, Crowley refused to meet them. No matter how much Max begged, Crowley never went down to the village. That was why Crowley was an idiot.

Today Crowley was doing a new idiot thing. He’d spent most of the day grumping around, and then suddenly had gotten very excited. Max had hoped that meant it was play time, but instead Crowley had gone straight into working on some new project, and had been very rude when Max had tried to help. Obviously he knew Crowley didn’t have time to play; that’s why Max had been helping him. Max had grumped off then, and thought about leaving entirely for a while, but ultimately decided against it. Very soon he came to regret that decision.

Max shook his head and pawed at the antler trying to get it _off_. “Max,” Crowley said sternly. He grabbed the scruff of Max’s neck. He didn’t pick Max up and dangle him, but even just having his mom hold him there made Max feel like a very small and naughty kitten again. “You have to leave the antler on. Santa has reindeer, and if I’m going to trick the Whos down in Whoville into thinking I’m Santa, then I need one too.”

Max’s ears pricked up at the word Whoville. That was the name of the village. If a stupid antler on his head was what it took to get Crowley to go to the village, then Max could put up with it. For a little while anyway.

When they got to the village it was late and dark and all the people were inside their house-dens. At first Max thought it was okay anyway, because Crowley was going inside each house-den one-by-one. It seemed odd that he came out of each one with a bunch of stuff, but Max thought maybe his new pack mates were just giving him welcome gifts. But the more house-dens they went to, the more Max suspected Crowley wasn’t meeting the Whos inside at all; he was just taking their things and leaving. Max liked having new things to see and touch and sniff, but not as much as he would have liked for Crowley to be making his new pack.

Eventually they reached Aziraphale’s house, and Max was determined to make Crowley stay inside until he’d met Aziraphale. As soon as Crowley had slithered down the chimney, Max went into their big bag of things and pulled out one of the funny round blankets with the holes in the middle Crowley had taken. He dragged it over to the house, carefully climbed up the ladder, and pulled the blanket over the top of the chimney. Then he watched and waited, ready to interfere if Crowley tried to come out of the blocked chimney anyway.

Crowley had been in the house-den a while, long enough that Max was becoming cautiously hopeful his plan had worked. Then he heard the front door open. He peered down to the ground and saw Crowley walking down the front path, carrying more things.

“Mrow!” Max protested.

“Max? What are you…?” Crowley hurried over and up the ladder. “Guess I was in there longer than I realized.”

Max bopped him. That wasn’t what he was upset about, and Crowley knew it.

“I got caught up talking to… well, I managed to convince him I was Santa and that’s what’s important, right? Got to focus on the mission. Just a few more houses and then we’re done.” Crowley tossed the blanket over his shoulder, then scooped Max up in his arms to carry him back down the ladder.

“Mrow!” But it was no use. No matter what Max said, Crowley just kept talking about the last few houses and going back to their cave-den. Eventually Max crawled inside their big bag of things and curled up, ignoring Crowley. There was no point in talking to someone who refused to listen.

By the time morning came and Crowley was dragging their sleigh up the mountain, Max had given up all hope. They had finally gone to the village, and Crowley hadn’t even tried to join their pack or get to know the den-mate Max had specially picked out for him. Obviously Max was just going to have to resign himself to the two of them living alone in their cave-den for the rest of their lives.

Down below in the village, the Whos started singing. Crowley hated it when the Whos sang, and as he’d been alternating between gleeful and grumpy ever since they’d left the village, Max waited for him to get even grumpier. Instead his face did a strange thing Max had never seen before. Crowley looked back at the village and his expression twisted and contorted before finally settling on one of longing.

“Max,” he said slowly. “I think… I think we’re going to have to go back.”

They did go back, a gleeful long sleigh ride down the mountain and back into the village, right to the square where all the Whos were. Max promptly jumped down and got lost in the crowd. He knew Crowley would never go back to their cave-den without him, so as long as Max was lost, they would have to stay.

They ended up spending the entire day in the village. The pack embraced Crowley as a new member just like Max had known they would. Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t talk to each other, but Max saw them constantly looking at one another all day long. He assumed they’d decided to give Crowley time to bond with the pack first, before they discussed being den-mates in private. This seemed sensible of them, so Max allowed it to continue – after all, it was so very heart-warming to see Crowley play with all the small ones. But as the sun set and Whos began trickling back to their house-dens with Crowley and Aziraphale still not having said a word to each other, Max started to worry again. He set out to find Crowley, only to have Crowley find him first, picking Max up and looking him right in the eye.

“Mrow,” Max suggested.

“I need your help. Aziraphale is about to leave, and I haven’t had a chance yet to… Look, just get over there and rub up against his legs or something, give me an excuse to go talk to him,” Crowley said. As though Max hadn’t just proposed the exact same thing.

It was a good idea, regardless of who was trying to steal credit for coming up with it from whom, so Max trotted over to Aziraphale and twined between his legs. Aziraphale picked him up, and Max promptly began rubbing his face up against Aziraphale’s, claiming Aziraphale for Max and Crowley, since Crowley was dragging his feet on doing it himself. Aziraphale was just as soft as he looked, and preliminary results suggested he was also an excellent groomer. Perfect; Crowley deserved a den-mate with the same level of skill at grooming that he had.

Crowley approached the pair of them, and once he was content the two of them were actually talking now, Max dozed off to sleep. Crowley would never move Max once he was sleeping – another reason why he was an excellent mom – so as long as Max was sleeping in Aziraphale’s arms, Crowley wasn’t going anywhere.

Max awoke some time later to find he actually had been moved in his sleep, but he found no reason to complain about the change in venue. He was curled up in the corner of a couch inside of what, based on the smell, had to be Aziraphale’s house-den. Crowley was sprawled across the other half of the couch while Aziraphale was sitting in a nearby chair, and they both had glasses of the bad-smelling juice. Content that the two of them were on their way to figuring things out, Max jumped down and went to explore.

It didn’t take long for Max to decide it would be better for Crowley and him to move into Aziraphale’s house-den rather than having Aziraphale move into their cave-den. He’d already been leaning that way because the house-den was so much closer to the rest of their pack, but the house-den was in itself very nice too. It was full of interesting smells and nooks and crannies to hide in and things to push around. There were lots of comfy chairs to doze in and windows with patches of moonlight filtering through that would become lovely patches of sunlight in the daytime, also for dozing in. There seemed to be less chance of finding mice or voles or other small scurrying animals in here than there was in the cave-den, but Max did find a crawling bug that he chased around for a while. Once he’d gotten bored of that, he decided to go check on Crowley and Aziraphale, rubbing along everything to mark them up with his scent along the way.

When he got back to the first room, Crowley and Aziraphale were still sitting in different seats, completely apart from each other. They were talking and laughing and leaning into each other and even blushing periodically, but neither had actually made a move closer toward the other. Maybe that was another way Aziraphale was perfect for Crowley: they were both idiots.

Max sat in the doorway, his tail swishing furiously as he waited for an opportunity. Eventually, finally, Aziraphale stood up. Max darted over, tangling himself up in Aziraphale’s legs until Aziraphale tripped and fell right on top of Crowley. There. Now Aziraphale would see what a good spot to lay on Crowley was, and they could show each other what excellent groomers they were.

“Terribly – terribly sorry,” Aziraphale stuttered, his face inches from Crowley’s.

“’S alright,” Crowley said. He had taken his sunglasses off at some point, so Max could see the way he wasn’t quite looking Aziraphale in the eye.

“It’s just, the cat…”

“Told you he was a terror,” Crowley said. And after everything Max had done for him.

“Oh no! I think…” Aziraphale licked his lips. “I think he’s very sweet.”

“You… do?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, absolutely,” Aziraphale said. “And do you know if he…?”

“Oh, he loves you.” Crowley’s eyes suddenly widened and he smacked his hand to his face. “Not in a creepy way! I just meant… you know, the cat…”

“I understand completely! The cat, we were just discussing the cat,” Aziraphale said. Both their faces were a very interesting shade of red now. Max’s tail twitched. “I, uh – I should let you go to sleep. It’s getting very late, and I’m sure you’re tired from staying up all last night.” Aziraphale stood up alarmingly quickly and began tugging on his clothes. Max considered jumping on his back to send him back down on top of Crowley again, but gave the whole thing up for a bad job for now.

“Right, sleep,” Crowley agreed. “Are you sure you don’t mind me crashing here?”

Really. Max jumped up and curled up on top of Crowley’s chest.

“Doesn’t look like you have much of a choice,” Aziraphale noted with amusement.

“Guess not,” Crowley agreed.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Aziraphale said. His smiled faltered. “I will see you in the morning?”

“I’ll be here,” Crowley said. “We’ll do breakfast.”

“Brunch, maybe,” Aziraphale suggested. “Let you get caught up on your rest.”

“Brunch. It’s – it’s a date,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale beamed. “A date,” he breathed, looking pleased as anything. Maybe they weren’t completely hopeless after all. Maybe. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night. Angel.” Crowley’s eyes followed Aziraphale as he walked up the stairs and out of sight. Only then did he turn back to Max.

“Mrow,” Max said.

Crowley smiled and gave him some fantastic scritches behind his ear. “You’re a good cat, you know that?”

Max purred, deeply content with how the day had turned out. Crowley really was an excellent mom. Even if he was an idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are lovelier than a good scritch behind the ear. Or you can come scream about cats and Good Omens with me on [tumblr](https://nicnacsnonsense.tumblr.com/). It's a thing I do a lot now apparently.


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